


"Did He who made the Lamb Make Thee?"

by i_am_zan



Series: 49 Days [14]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: For teatime, Gen, When friends drop by
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7764346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_zan/pseuds/i_am_zan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can everyone stop playing inside his head already please? It gets a little crowded inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Did He who made the Lamb Make Thee?"

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimers apply. Not for profit for fun.
> 
> This is for [Ascended_Sleepers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ascended_Sleepers) who helped push inspiration at me when I struggled for some yesterday. She gave me a prompt I could work with.  
> "I don't really know how much time it passed between season one and the new Hallow but I assume it's at least a few months.  
> So in that time span Lavi is sent on a mission to investigate some Innocence (inconsequential which or where) and he meets Road face to face, alone. Why is she there? It's up to you, but they do not have to fight. Also bonus if the old Bookman is there, too." - I hope I do/did not disappoint.

The Bookmen are on the 12:15 from Victoria to Canterbury, but they’re only getting off at Farningham Road Station. From there it’s only a short walk to the little village of Horton Kirby. They’ve been sent to investigate rumours of ghostly phenomena at an abandoned watermill by the River Darent. 

Lavi sits, as is his wont, with this blind side to the window and his elder opposite him, with arms folded, tucked in his sleeves. Both sit with eyes closed and in apparent sleep. The steam locomotive chugs along rhythmically on the tracks and it’s easy enough to be lulled by the cadence. However, owing to who they are, by nature and instinctive self-preservation, at rest they are not. They're already half an hour outside of London and there's roughly fifteen minutes left of travel. 

“Gramps, we’ll get our own rooms at the new Headquarters,” Lavi speaks to break the silence a little. “Eheheh, you won’t be too scared to be on your own will ya?”

“If you keep up with your logs and reports, I promise not to haunt you at night” was the rejoinder. Bookman looks across at his apprentice through lidded eyes, and the briefest flicker.

“Geez, you’re so scary..” as Lavi shudders with a mock shiver and smiles.

The train goes suddenly dark, as it enters a tunnel, except, except Lavi has been on this train line before and he knows that the tunnel isn’t till after their stop. 

“Gr-a-amps,” he speaks out tentatively as his hand automatically go to his side for his hammer as he starts to stand up. He finds that he cannot move, not even twitch his fingers.  
“Bookman,” he calls out once more with urgency in his voice. 

“Hello Junior,” is a voice that echoes in his head. The voice is playful, childlike and Lavi would in fact shiver if he could actually move. “Keep calm, I only popped in to say hello.”

He opens his eye and he’s in Road’s chequerboard dreamscape. The sky? Whatever is up above anyway, are purple and mauves, intermittently iridescent turquoise and aquamarine and everywhere is twilight. There is some odd luminescence that glows in the horizon, it _would_ actually be interesting to investigate the science behind it all except that it’s a predicament he’s in and he has other things to wor...  
“Oh and don’t worry about Bookman, he’s fine.” … ry about.

‘Who says I was worried?”  
“Ah Junior always so brave,” she giggles demurely. 

He does not have much of a choice, he’ll have to see what she wants, see her terms. The Noah are fond of toying with their hapless victims before getting to the point of it all. He supposes if you have been planning, scheming, waiting for millennia, the frivolity is a break in the tedium. 

“Look I’ve brought him here for you, you can see for yourself, he’s fine see.”

She knows, he knows the relief is temporary. Bookman can be in some nightmare of his own and Lavi will be none the wiser. 

“No, really he is fine, he's asleep at the moment.” She smiles, her amber eyes glowing eerily and suddenly he’s almost laughing himself because all he can think of is poetry. Because she’s dangerous, and deadly, feral almost and he can only think of poetry, so he recites for her.

“Tyger, tyger burning bright," 

She claps her hands in coquettish delight. “You are so sweet,” she sighs, “Bookmen are amazing, you know so much and in a time like this you poetise.” 

She points at a dainty table, with tea and scones, set for three. “Let sit hmm? I really did just come here to greet … an old friend.” 

He is not surprised anymore, since it is not the first time that the Noah have alluded to Bookman actually having met them before, even - and Lavi has turned this over in his mind countless times - having been _on the side of the Noah_. Bookman though is not forthcoming with an answer. Perhaps he might find out now, then again perhaps not, he concludes. As well as everything that has materialised, him and Bookman are now sat, with Road as if _they_ were the ones that had called round to tea and Lavi is certain that he did not move of his own accord. 

“Hello Bookman,” her face resting on her hands lashes fluttering, “lovely to see you... again - shall I say?" In pretense of a fluster, she puts a hand to her face in embarrassment,"Oh heavens, where are my manners? Here, would you like some tea?” She proceeds to pour them each some tea.

If the man is surprised, he gives no indication, his dark eyes glitter in unfathomable thought. Arms still folded in his sleeves. “Mistress Road,” he nods respectfully. 

“You should be proud of this one,” Lavi thinks she’s looking faraway at some other when, “he’s quite different to the other. No?”

“Hrnh,” is all the answer Lavi and Road get, he’s curious too.

“Shh,” she whispers conspiratorially behind her hand towards Bookman, “I won’t spill your secrets, just yet”

“What do you want of us?” Bookman asks, his voice raspy.

“Oh, I already told Junior, I just wanted to say hello to … Old friends.” Again that pause, the smile. “It’s been almost … romantic wouldn’t you say Junior?” Bookman shifts his gaze towards Lavi, askance, who has the decency to colour a little.

She makes a sudden grab at the middle of his scarf, twists it in her hand and pulls him close. Face-to-face, he can almost feel the gray of her skin, he can see the crown of thorns, the scars across her forehead.

“You want to know, what art can twist the sinews of my heart? Is it coincidence it’s you with your hammer, the furnace in my dread grasp? Did the stars throw down their spears, did _HE_ smile his work to see? Do you think…?” The last is feral, and with more than a touch of proud spite, “Did _HE_ who made the lamb make _ME_?” She lets go, almost pushing him back in his seat. 

She sighs heavily, hands moving first to her lap, then she crosses her arms and she sighs again. “Ah well, I’ve got to go. Dear, dearest Tyki will be looking for me, and the Earl too.” She sighs a third time. “I’m only here because he has Relo with him and I was bored, but who knows what disaster they’ll visit upon your souls if they find you two with me.” She stops to think for a bit, "So yes, yes back you go. And," she stresses, "for a bit of extra fun, I’ll throw some playthings your way when you get off the train ok?” She waggled her fingers at them, “I can’t have you saying” putting her finger to her lips “I was not a good host hmm?”

“What immortal hand or eye, dare frame thy fearful symmetry?” He quips in at the last moment.

She smiles that smile again, almost enchanted he would say, “Goodbye Bookmen, until we meet again”

He’s blinking, and the sudden light is sharp and piercing, he’s looking across at Bookman. 

“Yes, that did just happen,” is all he gets from his mentor who is looking straight back at him. “Be wary, she’s already warned us, so be ready.” 

Lavi notices that Bookman has his needles out, and he in turn has his hammer in hand. Prepared for the Akuma they've been promised, they step off the train, into the bright sunshine.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for posting date 13 August. If it's your birthday yesterday, Happy Birthday! 
> 
> The title, and quotes from alluded poem is from ['The Tyger' by William Blake published in 1794.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tyger)
> 
> As usual, I hope someone somewhere likes this.  
> As ever, thank you to everyone who reads, you are so loved. - Zan


End file.
